


Fisheye

by umbrage



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, M/M, Mind Games, Movie Star Akashi, Photographer Kuroko, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9174766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrage/pseuds/umbrage
Summary: It's a long way from casual photography to shadowing the elite Miracle Models, but Kuroko's quiet steps into their glamorous world might bring it all tumbling down.





	1. aperture

shot 00

 

* * *

It had been an inoffensive enough day for early autumn. The sun had waxed and waned in between wispy grey clouds all day, providing a lazy sort of warmth for passerby to soak in as they bustled along. Presently, in an innocuous, empty cul de sac, two young men were stationed in front of a plain house. One of the young men was scowling so prominently that his face seemed liable to be permanently affixed as such, while the other held a compact camera just below his line of sight. 

"Mr. Kagami, a little to the left. Please."

"Don't be so fucking formal," Kagami snapped back, but his tone was devoid of any true malevolence.  "Kuroko, can we take a break? We've been at this shit for  _hours_."

"Thirty minutes," Kuroko corrected mildly, and Kagami bared his teeth at him in a distinctly feral manner. "That's not a good look for you, Mr. Kagami."

"Shut up. And for the hundredth time, it'sjust Kagami, damn it!"

With a faint trace of a smile, Kuroko lowered the camera, and Kagami immediately dropped his pose to stretched languidly. He was a lean, sun-kissed young man, with a perpetually ravenous look to his amber eyes, and his long, atheletic legs always looked ready to sprint around a mile and back at any moment. Kagami exuded wildness, like a poorly-fettered tiger prone to lash out at the slightest attempt of restraint. In comparison, the slender, porcelain Kuroko was a docile, sleepy house cat - the two were a fascinating juxtaposition to behold.

"What is it?" Kagami grumbled awkwardly when the photographer's dead gaze had been fixed on his form for longer than a casual glance would entail. "Is there something on my face, or what?"

"No." Kuroko let his eyes drop to his camera as the taller man stooped his shoulders to scrutinize the smaller man's face. "It isn't anything in particular." To an onlooker, Kagami entirely dwarfed Kuroko, whose small stature did not help to negate his almost ghostly presence.

"You're always too pensive," Kagami said with a growl, and the photographer gave a shrug of his skinny shoulders.

"Thinking isn't a bad thing, you know."

"That sounds like a shitty, roundabout way of insulting me."

Kuroko did not reply, a teasing quirk lifting the corners of his lips, and Kagami stalked out of the vacant asphalt street to sit on the curb. He propped his elbows on his knees as he absently flexed his long fingers, yawning widely as he did so. "Why a street shot?" he asked, watching grey wisps lazily float across the yellowing sky. "We could've green screened at Riko's studio or something if you didn't need me long - "

The photographer interrupted Kagami's mid-sentence without batting an eyelash. "Because this is a fitting environment for you," he said easily, fiddling with his lens.

"Fitting," Kagami repeated flatly as he gave Kuroko the hairy eyeball. "Are you tryin' to say something here?"

"Yes." He was unabashed. "Mr. Kagami fits right in with a street. Streets see many things. They've watched many people go in and away from it. Perhaps they've been paved again after wear and tear. And despite that, the street stays the same, with all its old bends and turns."

The redhead gave Kuroko a furtive, heated glance before averting his eyes, but the two angry red spots on his cheekbones gave him away. Kuroko was usually a quiet person with a decidely melancholic air - but whenever he became talkative on a whim, he had a way of talking in an oddly sentimental manner that always made Kagami feel bashful.

"You're freaking weird," he grumbled instead, not meeting the photographer's probing eyes.

A sudden flash had Kagami jerking his head up to see Kuroko armed with a vague, almost smile that just ghosted over his lips. He observed the resulting picture with an unspoken satisfaction before looking up to gaze at Kagami. "So I have been told."

* * *

 

There was something about wheeling a bike along a silent sidewalk that inspired a feeling of isolation from the rest of the world. Kuroko, however, felt far more meditative than detached, his mind a crystal clear pool. It was almost a storybook setting, with the sun's rays caressing his back as he trudged along under a dying sky, the birds chirping their warbling farewells to the fading light as a flurry of tawny leaves cascaded from the arms of slumbering trees.

Kagami had run off hastily to one of his many part-time jobs, and he had left the petite photographer on the ditched street with an excess of reluctance. It had left Kuroko time to complete his other tasks for the day in solemn peace. With a surprising amount of deftness, he mounted his bicycle and took off at a steady pace. As he pedaled from the fringe of the city into the inner parts of Seiren, the landscape gradually converged from sparse suburban homes to tightly stacked rows of apartments and strip malls. The streets hummed with the remnants of rush hour, cars whizzing past him periodically as he continued pedaling with an admirable sort of determination.

By the time he pulled in front of a quaint studio, barely alight with a cheap florescent sign that flickered _Seirin Snaps_ weakly in the dusk of the evening, he was panting for breath. With a mild stagger in his step, he entered through the doorway, a light jingle accompanying his quiet footfalls. "Good evening, Riko."

"Kuroko?" A woman with a boyish frame emerged from one of the back rooms, an armful of folders and papers balanced precariously on her forearm. Her face was unorthodoxly striking, with sharp, inquisitive eyes and far softer cheekbones. She had a discomfiting aura that straddled the line between casual and formal, with a starkly white bandanna tied snugly around a slender wrist, skinny jeans and a crisp, white pop collar shirt. Riko Aida was perfectly summated in her fashion - a mix of strict professionalism and easy casualness.

"You’ve got goods?" she asked lightly, but her expression was expectant.

"Yes," was his quiet reply, and she set the papers down on a desk in a majestic heap. She held out a hand expectantly, and he forked over his camera. She thumbed through the pictures with an intimidating intensity before she finally allowed a smile to grace her lips.

"Your backgrounds are as fitting as ever," Riko observed, "Kagamoron looks right at home." She reached out a deceptively slender hand to heartily clasp Kuroko's shoulder. "This is why I know I can trust you with - "

"Riko!" A spectacled, frazzled man rushed out of his cramped office, his face a portrait of raw excitement as he raked trembling fingers through his dark hair. The woman in question let out a strangled cry, a mix of indignation and girlish surprise, before she quickly regained her composure. "I have great news - "

"Mr. Hyuuga - " she seethed, her voice rising with every syllable.

"Ma'am," he hastily interrupted the inevitable tirade, "we've actually gotten word back from the Kaijou Company! A-About your proposition!"

Riko blinked owlishly before roughly grabbing hold of Hyuuga's earlobe. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she demanded, giving it a hard yank. "What was the verdict?"

"Approval. _Ouch_."

Without a pause in her step, she swiveled around like a mechanical doll, releasing Hyuuga's abused ear to smile at Kuroko - much like a feline would bare its teeth at a sumptuous mouse. "Kuroko, I believe have a job for you."

"Job?" Kuroko usually just volunteered at _Seirin Snaps_ to garner personal experience, but a few extra coins to pocket were  _never_  anying to sniff at. Riko smirked knowingly as she noted a spark leap in Kuroko’s tranquil gaze - her vigor was practically contagious.

"Yes. I've arranged for you to be able to attend a photoshoot with some A-list Kaijou models for an entire hour. But by God, make sure you pay attention to any slips of info they might be blabbing about."

"Riko - " Hyuuga tried.

"You know I love hot stories even more than juicy photos, right Kuroko?" she cooed, and he couldn't help suppressing a small shiver. "I'll be counting on you."

"Riko," Hyuuga finally cut in, "they want him over by 10 o’clock tomorrow morning." He gave Kuroko a grimace. "You're not going to be the only non-Kaijou photographer there, unfortunately."

"Competition, hmm? That makes  _me_  excited! A chance of garnering close snapshots of Kise Ryōta to the highest bidding magazines – or tabloids!" Her face was dreamy as she sighed contentedly, "our name recognition would _skyrocket!_ "

She abruptly donned a serious expression, fixing Kuroko with a meaningful stare. "You’ve really have to do your best during this shoot. Stand out with your phenomenal photo-shooting style!"

Kuroko gave her a dutiful nod. "Yes."

 _Seirin Snaps_ hadn't been a successful photography studio since her father's time in the family business several,  _several_  years ago, but from the way she went about running the tiny place, one would think Seirin was the end-all-be-all. The diligence with which Riko kept the small business aloft was nothing short of igniting, and perhaps it was for that reason that the directionless young man kept coming by the studio even when the pay was infrequent and minimal.

"There will be a lot of models there as well other than Kise," she continued, "so feel free to focus on them a little, too. However, the star of the shoot is undoubtedly him. Make sure you get some decent shots.”

"I will do my best," he replied with a bow of his head.

"Be here at nine o' clock sharp tomorrow, or there’ll be hell to pay," she added with grim aplomb, but her smile was playful. "Have a good night, Kuroko.”

* * *

 

Kuroko's apartment was an indiscernible blend of both tidy and unruly. His dusty textbooks, a vestige of two semesters past, were neatly arranged on a shelf, but discarded photos lay strewn about his work desk. He gingerly stepped through the polaroid sea to make his way to the small kitchen, where his tidied dishes and plates were stacked away smartly. As he opened the fridge, however, the strange, dark concoctions entrapped within a myriad of countless plastic containers sharply contrasted with the otherwise clean kitchen.

As his stomach grumbled, he reached for a stored dish that looked like fat tentacles. He couldn't quite remember where he had nabbed the food from - all mattered at the moment was that it was more or less edible.

After adequately heating his mystery food, he settled on his work chair and turned to his dormant laptop. Searching _Kise Ryōta_ instantly brought up video after video, and after a moment’s deliberation, he clicked on a particularly popular interview. The model's face was a portrait of perfection – a blindingly bright, sultry smile that crinkled golden eyes and brought out high cheekbones. His voice was like fresh honey, dripping with a magnanimous amount of excited eagerness that couldn’t possibly fit into one human being.

_"Mr. Ryōta - "_

_"Please. Call me Kise. Everyone should."_ The words rolled off his tongue like drops of sugar.

_"O-Okay, Kise. What drove you to become a model?"_

_"Oh, that's a good question. I - "_ there was a falter, ever so slight, in the model's voice, that was unperceivable to the average watcher,  _" - I just got the luck of the draw, I suppose! I wasn't really looking to be a model, but here I am!"_

_"I see. Do you have any advice do you have for those interested in your line of work?"_

_"You should be positive,"_ Kise replied easily _, "and look good; always put your best foot forward. Even then, though, scouting is kind of like roulette, you know? Beauty’s in the eye of the beholders!"_

"Interesting." Kuroko slurped up a tentacle as his eyes remained trained on Kise's every facial contortion. Each inflection was carefully documented away in his head, and every twitch of the lips or flutter of long lashes did not go unnoticed. "Kise Ryōta. A Miracle model." He paused in eating to glance at his camera. "Exhausting."

_"Kise, what beauty tips do you swear by?"_

_"Well, a model can never share_ all _their secrets, but I suppose I can afford to spare you a few tips!"_ Kise turned away from the interviewer, his eyelids lowered coquettishly as he gazed at the camera. His eyes were smoldering gold coins, and his smile was lazy, but something _stirred_ under his easy expressions. It was _hunger_ , barely masked by practice smiles and skin-deep glory.

For as long as Kuroko still stirred, Kise Ryōta was his textbook. And the more he watched, the more potent he found the web of silky charisma that Kise wove so naturally. People stared at him the way dying men looked at water, like he was a piece of aromatic, succulent meat. Worshipping his body and face with slow-sweeping gazes and quiet murmurs addled with unabashed lust. His flawless skin, his full, quirking mouth, his baritone hum with a soft edge of gravel.

This golden boy was Kuroko's target.

He wondered to himself, as his head grew too heavy to prop up and his lids gradually fluttered shut of their own accord, if it was possible to see through the radiance of a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story I started almost three years ago on FanFiction.net, under a different pseudonym, and I decided I liked the concept and leftover ideas I had let lie fallow well enough to try to rewrite it. It's 2017 now, after all - I might as well pen something to completion.


	2. candid

shot 01

 

* * *

 

Kise Ryōta felt blasé.

His days were crammed to the brim with admirers of all shapes and sizes, men and women alike, with persistent paparazzi and endless shoots and gigs that all followed the same damn formulae. Smile wider. Tilt your head a little bit to the side. Show off your body, like it was a cheap buffet. Flutter your lashes, whisper sweet nothings, just enough to grant your thumbs access, to hook and pull into a clingy elastic waistband after working hours. Ignore that small, shrill voice in the back of your head, reminding you that your looks were the only reason people bothered caring about you.

Today was, of course, not an exception.

"Kise, we're ready to go," a senior model barked at him, and Kise gave a gratuitous roll of his eyes. Kasamatsu Yuki. A bear walking around in a convincing human disguise. Kise was admittedly fond of him, but the guy was always too grumpy and always too blatant about his contempt for just about  _everything_. "Try sobering up."

"Relax, senior," Kise cooed, patting the shorter model's cheek. "I'm always sober in the mornings."

‘Annoyance’ was too paltry an adjective to describe Kasamatsu's feelings towards Kise and his stupid smile and silver tongue. The model annoyed him out of his wits, and yet, he felt sort of on edge around him as well. There was a sinister _void_ that lurked behind those million-dollar smiles, and whenever he glimpsed it he felt a little more understanding of why Kise insisted on being so damn saccharine. And despite Kise's constantly goading him and instigating petty arguments that made his skin boil and preyed on Kasamatsu's short temper, they got along in a strange, vindictive way.

"If you weren't one of the Miracle Models," the senior snarled, smacking Kise's hand away, "I'd kick you in the face."

"That sounds like a miracle in of itself," Kise quipped, flicking his hand up in a wave as he brushed past Kasamatsu. Poking fun at his short-tempered senior provided temporary alleviation for some of his boredom but unfortunately provoking Kasamatsu couldn't stave off his discontent for long.

With a saunter in his practiced step, he walked into the shoot location to join the rest of the Kaijou models (ignoring the poorly concealed glowers and grumbles tossed in his direction), and plastered a dazzling grin onto his face to quiet the buzz of the flashing insects – if only for a moment. "Sorry for the wait," he said, his face a masterpiece of sincerity and the bugs around him were spurred into noisy flight.

"Mr. Kise! Please, over here!"

"Your hair looks fabulous today, as always! Mr. Kise, how do you manage to keep up with your beauty regime when you’re always so swamped?”

"Can you give us a little wink for the camera? Over here - good, good!"

He smiled too brightly, answering every insufferable buzz that plagued him, but he was practically sick to his stomach. This was hell. He was only growing more popular by the day; he was the model to beat, and everyone knew it. People were tripping for a chance to exploit him, spouting empty flattery, hollow behind greedy gazes. And yet, he continued in this daily torture. He had a toxic admiration of the glitz. He was acquainted with it, and in a twisted way, he was comfortable with it. He had done this for so long that his childhood dreams had long since become a youthful blur.

His eyes had been put out by the stars.

* * *

 

"Remember Kuroko," Riko began, her voice earnest. They were currently sitting in the Seiren Snaps van – a rusted, sputtering scrap heap that was likely the most dilapidated piece of junk ever conceived. "The focus of this shoot is Kise. You need to take full advantage of your proximity while you're here. Many professionals don’t often get this sort of chance, so utilize it to the best of your ability. Don't skimp out on scoping out the other models, and if you can dig down - " her face drew too close, her eyes narrowed to infinitesimal slits, " –  _dig deep_."

"...Yes," Kuroko replied, his voice just slightly strained.

"Then go!" she urged, shooing him out of the vehicle, “get me a good photo scoop!”

Kuroko hopped out of the van, giving a brief wave as Riko pulled away, his brow furrowing with a touch of concern as the engine gave a disturbing groan. As the van vanished from sight, he glanced down at his camera. He was alone now, and his camera’s weight around his neck was a familiar comfort. Without ceremony, he edged closer to the shoot site. A temporary runway had been set up, with a myriad of potted marigolds framing it.  A silken white sheet had been draped at the edge of the runway, its folds throwing sensuous dapples of shadow over its length. There were already a mess of photographers and journalists swarming the runway, pressing as close as legally possible to the star of the show.

Kise Ryōta.

He certainly  _was_  something else. His hair was half pinned back in an intentionally mused style that made him look like an angel that had just rolled out of bed – coupled with that famously dashing smile. His top was a loose and long white dress shirt that was hardly buttoned, exposing a gratuitous amount of his toned chest. The dark skinny jeans he wore hugged his long legs tightly, tucked into jet black boots with sinful heels, and Kuroko had to look away for a moment.

Kise was captivating, and his saunter showed he knew it.

"Hey, everybody!” Kise greeted, his eyes practically twinkling, and Kuroko thought that he was a thousand times more exhaustively vibrant in person. "Thanks for coming, everyone! I'm super flattered you were all so interested in this little Kaijou photo shoot!"

This was  _little_?

Kuroko already felt far too crowded, with relentless, sharp elbows jabbing at him from all sides, hisses of annoyance, and disparaging clicks from fellow scoopers overly eager to draw closer stunning model. He fumbled with his camera as someone shoved rather roughly past him, and he sighed with relief when his search for camera damage was in vain. "That was rude," he said quietly, his voice taut with annoyance. "We're not a pack of wild animals."

Put off, he averted his eyes from Kise, who was languidly posing for the crowd, to search for the other models. They were easy to spot, despite not being quite as eye-catching as the star of Kaijou – they were sharply dressed and quite easy on the eyes. One in particular, a man with a scowl and eyebrows that seemed permanently etched in a downward position, caught Kuroko's eye. With his interested perked, Kuroko drifted away from the crowd around Kise and towards the considerably less swarmed man. He was dressed smartly in a three-piece suit, with a colorful tie that would’ve been outlandish on anyone else, and he noted Kuroko’s approach.

"Eh?" The man articulated, one eyebrow arching into a perfect curve of incredulity. "Aren't you here for Kise?"

"I found you interesting."

"Hm." Both of his eyebrows were arched now as his eyes assessed Kuroko with evidently growing approval. "The name's Kasamatsu Yukio. And you?"

"Kuroko Tetsuya. It's a pleasure."

"You're a photographer, then," he said, nodding at the camera in Kuroko's hands. "What do you need? A particular pose?"

The slender man shrugged. "To talk."

"Talk," Kasamatsu repeated, sounding stumped, before he gave a roll of his sculpted shoulders. "...Okay. What about?"

"It doesn't matter," Kuroko said, before adding after a pause, "perhaps, about your day?"

Kasamatsu whistled through his teeth. "Mildly excruciating." He fiddled with his tie, attempting to loosen it a little.

"Is there a particular reason for that?"

"Yep." He jerked his thumb in Kise's direction. "Golden boy over there."

Kuroko blinked. "Is that so?"

"He may be the star attraction, but he's a pain to work with. He doesn't really have to try to get attention. His outfit today hardly qualifies as high fashion, and yet he has the whole damn runway to himself. It’s all smiles and pretty words and everyone's on him."

"Do you think he’s arrogant?"

Kasamatsu bit his lip, thinking. "I wouldn't say he's arrogant. He’s jaded. A lot more than people assume. He’s good at hiding that."

"What about you, Mr. Kasamatsu? Are you jaded?"

"All models are, eventually," came the sigh of a reply as he closed his eyes. He barely registered the nearly soundless clicks of a camera, and he opened his eyes to see Kuroko holding his close to his eyes. "You're taking pictures now?" he asked, incredulous, and Kuroko nodded.

"Canid shots are the most pleasant ones."

"Ha! There's an unpopular opinion if I've ever heard one," Kasamatsu said with a snort. "But it isn't a bad one. By any means."

They chatted for a good while, exchanging pleasantries and even a few chuckles as Kasamatsu grumbled about the utter pretentiousness of his tie. Other photographers hovered around Kasamatsu, giving Kuroko the stink eye, and a few even resorted to snapping photos of the two standing together. Kuroko decided he liked Kasamatsu as they spoke, their voices low and casual. He had a harrowed mien, as if he had already lived too long and seen too much, but his harsh eyes could crinkle so easily with kindness.

"Kasamatsu! You are not paid to _flirt_!"

A large man with a furious look on his plump face interrupted them, not sparring Kuroko a glance as he all but yelled in Kasamatsu's face. "See Kise over there? How he’s not just zeroing in on one of the paparazzi, like an amateur? At least  _attempt_  to sell the damn clothes on your body!"

"Yes sir," Kasamatsu ground out, a deep scowl settling back onto his face.

Kuroko bowed his head to the rotund man. "I'm sorry to have hogged your model’s valued time, sir. Take care, Mr. Kasamatsu."

"You too," he said, his voice a little less gruff. "See you around, kid."

As the photographer walked away, affronted, Kise's eyes followed him. Who  _was_  this guy? Chatting up Kasamatsu, of all people, while ignoring the obvious center of attention? He didn't know why, but as he searched that photographer's blank, unimpressed eyes he wanted his approval. Kise wanted the photographer to just _glance_ at him, to pepper him with old and worn questions, to affirm that he was just like all the other insects flashing their obnoxious lights.

He didn't.

* * *

 

"Who's that little photographer?" Kise asked Kasamatsu, his voice a wealth of condescension. "A new catch?" They had moved offset to take a brief intermission, and for some damnable reason Kise couldn't keep his thoughts off that photographer. It made no sense – the photographer wasn’t particularly handsome, and despite having a shock of blue hair he was surprisingly easy to lose in a crowd. But his gaze was hollow and unimpressed, and he hadn’t _looked_ at Kise.

Kasamatsu didn’t even turn to face him as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. "No," he said, without a trace of his usual irritation. "Never met the guy."

"Really?" Kise challenged. "You seemed on pretty good terms."

"Are you so vain," Kasamatsu began, finally turning to face him with quirked brows, "that it's impossible for you to process that there is  _someone_  out there that isn't fawning over you as soon as you look at them?"

Kise was speechless as Kasamatsu shrugged. "That's your problem. In case you've forgotten in the wake of your fame, I am a Kaijou model as well. To think, I said you weren’t a pretentious cock."

"Whatever," Kise grumbled long after Kasamatsu had left, sullen. That photographer had glanced over him, like he didn't even care about who he was or what he had accomplished, for  _Kasamatsu_ _?_ A _podium_ model? It was practically inconceivable. "I don't care."

_He cared a lot._

He decided to venture outside the dress room to get fresh air – he was tired of how the other models were too intimidated to strike up a conversation with him that consisted of more than nervously polite words. Tired of smiling at everyone, tired of posturing. He was left with only his thoughts for company, on all the lights and of the fans and how utterly insufferable his life was – and how it had shaped him to be equally intolerable. Kise was bored, he was furious, he was so sick of this bejeweled  _monotony_  -

"Mr. Kise."

The model's eyes snapped back into focus. "Did someone call me?" he asked aloud, and he felt the slightest presence behind him. He turned to find a someone behind him, and he bit down a surprised yelp as he almost jumped out of his skin. He blinked as they stared at each other, finally recognizing the person. It was the photographer, with his limpid eyes and that little camera slung comfortably around his neck.

"Good morning, Mr. Kise."

"Morning." Kise exhaled, his sense of curiosity dissipating in favour of annoyance. Comfortable, _familiar_ irritation. He was just another mindless member of the conglomerate. "I'm taking a quick break.” His voice was notably testy, his brow furrowed as he scratched at the back of his head. “I'll be back after the intermission."

The man tilted his head. "How?"

"How?" Kise repeated, and grimaced. They were a pair of parrots. "Um. Clearly, I’m not working at the moment. I need to change. It’s pretty simple."

"Is it really that simple?" The man didn't even seem to blink, and it made Kise feel irrationally diminutive. "You look better now."

Kise stared at this dead-eyed man for what seemed like an eternity, trying to process the oddness of the situation, before beginning to _laugh_. It was a deep, belly-aching chortle that seemed so out of place coming out of Kise’s perfect mouth.

"You're weird," Kise managed to finally gasp out, cradling his stomach.

As caught his breath, he heard a quiet beep and click. He looked up to see the man taking pictures of him casually, a sort-of-there smile on his lips. As if he had heard that line a thousand times. "So I have been told."

Kise was caught off-guard, a flurry of questions stuck in his throat like flies on sandpaper.  _Why are you taking pictures now?_ _How can I look better while I’m offset? Why am I even talking to you_? 

Instead, he only managed a painfully awkward, “uh.”

The man flipped through his shots with a practiced thumb, his gaze approving. Kise didn't understand _why_ , but seeing the satisfied creases around those vacant blue eyes felt relieving. As the supermodel opened his mouth to speak, the man nodded finitely and gave a deep bow. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kise."

Kise's words were abruptly freed. "Wait! You're not, ah, staying for the shoot?"

The man blinked. "I was at the first one."

"Oh." Kise turned his eyes away, abashed. He hadn't felt so off his game in quite a while, and it felt awful, a nervous smile on his lips. "Right. I remember ... seeing you."

Kuroko merely stared at him for a long stretch before offhandedly commenting, "I like this smile better, Mr. Kise."

Why was this man so damn flustering? It made no sense – he was pale and nothing to fawn over, but Kise was entranced all the same. As he walked away, the model could feel curiosity rearing its ugly head. He tried to bite it down as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Showing interest in people beyond hot, melting candy to indulge himself with in his sheets was rarely ever a good thing. Never mind showing any more interest than necessary in the sort of ilk that happened to be the fathers and mothers of lies, after all. He pressed his lips together as he watched the man walk away, his mouth growing thinner and thinner, before he couldn’t hold it in.

"Um," he said, his tongue feeling strange in his mouth, "you should stay for the second shoot."

The man paused to give Kise an odd glance. As if the supermodel was the oddball. "I am staying."

"That's good, ah - " he faltered before a hesitant half-smile wavered onto his face. "What's your name?"

There was a long stretch of silence that had Kise wanting to squirm around like a damn schoolboy before the photographer opened his mouth again.

"Kuroko Tetsuya, of Seiren Snaps. Please to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kise."

"Just Kise's fine," he said automatically, with a nervous laugh, and he looked away from Kuroko to gaze over at the dressing room trailer. An assistant was motioning frantically at him, tapping at their watch’s display with evident panic. "Um. I have to go. See you?"

It sounded too much like a hopeful question, and Kise resisted wincing as it came out of his mouth. Kuroko, however, simply bowed slightly at the waist.

"See you."

As Kise turned to hurry back towards the dressing room, he realized just how boring the photographer was - at a glance. Despite having blue hair, he was far too easy to look over. Kuroko -  _Kuroko_ , he repeated in his head, mentally tasting the feel of the name on his tongue - felt like the type of lame, unspectacular person that shouldn't perk his interest, who shouldn’t even show up on his radar.

And yet - he had.

* * *

 

"How'd the photo shoot go?" Kagami asked as Kuroko opened the squeaky passenger's seat of the van. He gave his co-worker a cool one-over as he started up the rickety ride with the harsh turn of the key. "Hope you enjoyed your power hour next to a bunch of vapid dicks.”

Kuroko buckled himself in. "Why are you picking me up?"

"Aida's busy. Thanks for your fucking _ceaseless_ gratitude." Kagami glanced over at Kuroko as they pulled away from the shoot location, his eyes expectant. "Did you get good pictures?"

"Yes, Mr. Kagami - " Kagami gave a warning growl - "I certainly did."

There was a short silence before the driving man kissed his teeth loudly. "Are you seriously not gonna even elaborate?" he asked indignantly, and Kuroko shrugged.

"I talked with Mr. Kise."

Kagami made a noise that was vaguely approving, eyeing the failing tire pressure. "Wonderful. The sunny side up ass." He cast a glance at the photographer, who was quietly staring out the window. "He's always smiling, I swear to God. Makes me sick."

Kuroko finally looked away from the window to fix his eyes on Kagami’s sour face. "He’s not as endlessly positive as his typical persona would have you believe."

"Hmm. And how would  _you_  know that?"

The photographer blinked, the corner of his mouth barely quirked. "Because of his smile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I already have the bones for the first three chapters, it'll be easy enough to pump these first few chapters out. I don't have a planned schedule for releasing chapters after the third - perhaps once every two weeks, once college gets into full swing.
> 
> thanks for all the kudos
> 
> this is going to be a lot of self-indulgent, introspective, emotional tortureヽ(；▽；)ノ


	3. exposure

shot 02

 

* * *

 

"Kuroko, I could kiss you on the mouth."

"Please refrain."

"Those candid photos of Kise you gave me two days ago? Editors of nearly every major magazine were chomping at the damn bit for them!" She leaned over her desk - nearly closes enough to brush Kuroko's nose -  her eyes wide with glee. "Our net profit this week alone has gone up by astronomical levels. Ten times as much, Kuroko! Ten  _times_!"

Riko gleefully spun around in her chair, giggling relentlessly, and Kuroko bowed, fidgeting with his hands.

"That is good to hear. However, I am sure it was not just my photos that brought Seirin Snaps this well-deserved attention - "

"That's nonsense!" she said, cutting his refutation of her praise short. "Isn't that right, Mr. Hyuuga?"

The man in question poked his head into Riko's office immediately, nodding as if his life depended on it. All things considered, it was likely it did. "Of course, boss! Utter nonsense."

"See?" She stretched her arms, yawning before folding her hands under her chin. She dismissed Hyuuga with a neat tilt of her head. "Even Kagamoron's getting more exposure to readers as a result. You should’ve seen the way he blushed, Kuroko. He's pretty grateful."

"Don't speak for me," Kagami grumbled as he entered the room, and at Riko's look, hastily tacked on a gruff, "boss." Despite his waspish tone, his ears were a healthy red and he made no attempt to deny her words. "Yo."

"Mr. Kagami," Kuroko greeted him simply, and Kagami in turn ruffled the photographer's hair. "Stop that. I don't like it."

"Then _you_ drop the politeness bullshit!”

Kuroko blinked. "But it's fun to see you always get so bashful. Like a little kid."

Kagami flushed scarlet, looking more and more like an irate volcano set to erupt. "What - "

"Hey!" Riko's annoyed voice interrupted their banter. "Settle down, Kagamoron."

"Why am  _I_  the only one getting scolded?!"

"Now," Riki said with a simper, "I have a gift for you two."

Kuroko tride not to flinch as he asked, "What kind of gift, Miss Riko?"

She leaned forward, dangling the rusty van keys in front of him. "You'll see."

* * *

 

 

Twenty minutes and a death-defying van ride later, the three of them stood in front of a fancy, upper class bar. Kagami looked rather uncomfortable as he took in the elegant affluence of the general area, his jaw tight and his long legs restless. Kuroko, as usual, was completely and utterly impassive.

"You want us to go drinking," Kamagi's eyes darted back and forth, from Riko's smug expression to the sleek automatic double doors. " _Here_? I don't think I could pay the toll to _drive_ in this part of town."

"As a reward for your work, Kuroko, and your willingness, Kagamoron, to be Seirin Snaps's only model," Riko proclaimed, "any purchase of any sort here tonight is on me."

Kuroko bowed his head. "I am honoured. Although, I must admit, I have a rather low threshold for alcohol."

"Figures." Kagami grinned widely at Kuroko. "You couldn't handle a damn spritzer."

"It suits me fine," Kuroko said, his face a mask of innocence, "I'm not the closet alcoholic."

Kagami faltered. "Alcoholic is a really strong word," he protested weakly, his cheeks ruddy. "I like my drinks a little heavy, s'all."

"Right," Riko laughed, and Kagami bristled. "That's exactly what a closet alcoholic would say."

"Riko." Kagami's voice was a low rumble, and he leaned closer to his boss as he clasped her tiny shoulder. "Y'know how this must look to anyone lookin'. Two poor young men, being coerced into drinking with a suave cougar - "

Without hesitation, Riko grabbed hold of Kagami's broad shoulders and kneed him  _hard_  in his stomach. He wheezed out shakily, the surprise assault smacking the air right out of him, and Riko smiled pleasantly as he doubled over in agony.

"Pardon?" she inquired sweetly, as if she had never heard his jibe.

"N-Nothin'," he breathed out slowly, as if he was afraid the air in his lungs would leave him again and never come back. "I was just saying that you're so _courageous_  for taking us out for drinks, s'all."

"Right," Riko purred, patting his trembling shoulder lightly. "Such a charmer."

After a struggling Kuroko eventually coaxed Kagami to follow in after a flouncing Riko, she led them past two stalwart bouncers, right to a trio of high red bar stools. "Hop up, boys."

"What's this place called, anyway?" Kagami asked gruffly, slowly regaining his bravado as he sat down.

"It's the Interhigh Joint," she replied. "I like coming here when I feel really down, or - " she winked at them, " - when I'm feeling pretty victorious."

"It's certainly upscale," Kuroko commented, his eyes roving about. He took in the soft-as-sin red carpet and immaculate black walls, gazing through the crystalline tables and noting the sensuous lowlight - not seeming to miss the slightest detail. "It must be an expensive place."

"Moderately."

"How the hell can you afford it?" Kagami asked bluntly, snapping his gum. Evidently, the intimidating emanation of the uptown bar had worn off of him. "It's not like you make much off the studio."

Instead of growing irate with him, Riko only winked again, far more coquettishly. "I have friends in high places."

Kuroko and Kagami exchanged wide glances, the latter of the two mumbling under his breath. "What poor schmucks got stuck owning  _her_  favours?"

"Here's one," she continued, cheerily gesturing to the approaching bartender. "Boys, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine - Mr. Kiyoshi Teppei."

"Evening, Aika. That's an awful lot of formality," the bartender admonished her, affectionate. He was taller than even the imposing Kagami, with shoulders broad enough to make the eternally burdened Atlas jealous. Despite his imposing stature, his mien was gentle and his face was kind. Kiyoshi looked the photographer and amateur model over with a curious expression. "Who are these two?"

"My newest recruits," she said with dignity, waving her hand about. "This one's the model, Kagami Taiga," Riko thumped his head for emphasis, "and he's especially mouthy."

"Hey!" Kagami snapped, an acidic retort no doubt on the tip of his tongue before he caught Kiyoshi's eye and swallowed it whole. "I mean, uh, it's good to meet you. Sir."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Kiyoshi said, all smiles. "I hope you'll treat Riko well. She used to be my manager, after all."

"Is that so?" Kuroko said, clearly startling the bartender, and Kiyoshi tilted his head down to get a better look at the slight man.

"Oh! Hello, err - "

"Kuroko Tetsuya."

"Ah! So you're the photographer Riko's been bragging about?"

He was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful as he watched Kiyoshi's face. "I suppose I must be."

Kiyoshi grinned brightly, his gaze flickering between Kuroko and Kagami. "You're in good hands with Riko," he commented, as he absently mixed a ruby red sangria. "She's an incredible woman."

"Oh please," she protested, but she accepted her regular drink with rosy cheeks. "You were just an exceptional model."

"You worked for Seirin Snaps, huh?" Kagami asked, his dark eyes flicking between Riko and Kiyoshi with an edge of suspicion. 

"Oh yes. I had some great times working there. I always seem to smile whenever I think about my time spent in that cozy little building." He gave a nostalgia-laden sigh of contentment. "Those were the days, huh Riko?"

"By 'cozy' and 'little,'' I'm assuming you means "cramped" and "minuscule." Kagami quipped, oblivious to Riko's warning glare trained on him.

Kiyoshi laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling charmingly. "What can I get you two?" he asked, mercifully ending that train of conversation.

"Something weak," Kuroko requested at the same time Kagami boomed, "something strong!" Instantly, their mouths snapped shut and they looked at each other sullenly.

"Don't mock me."

"That's  _my_  line!"

"How does 80 proof vodka sound, Mr. Kagami?" Kiyoshi smoothly interjected. "And Mr. Kuroko, I'll get you some sparking water if you aren't keen on alcohol."

"That would be - "

Kuroko's voice died abruptly in his throat as his brows shot up, his line of sight fixing on something - someone? - for a few fleeting moments, before quickly turning away. Kagami shot him a quizzical look quirking his own brow at the bizarre reaction.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, following the line of sight that had held Kuroko's gaze. "What were - oh."

"Guys?" Riko eventually turned her gaze away from Kiyoshi to look at Kuroko's surprised expression, and Kagami's frozen face, and she followed his line of sight to find Kise Ryōta lounging a few tables away, in all of his glory. "Oh!"

The Kaijou model was dressed casually, sporting a fitted black top, hole-ridden blue jeans and feet clad in naught but black flip-flops. Besides his ubiquitously alluring aura, he looked surprisingly normal, sipping a tall glass of gin with a neutral expression. He wasn't alone, either. A lanky, spectacled man with neat, coiffed hair dyed a mild green sat with him, his gaze sharp and utterly judgmental. He was more appropriately dressed than Kise, with buffed dress shoes instead of flip-flops and a crisp black and white suit instead of knockabout wear.

Riko's eyes widened - to the point where both Kagami and Kiyoshi feared they'd pop right out of their sockets - before she hissed under her breath.

"Kuroko. _Kuroko!_ Kise is  _looking_  at you."

The photographer didn't reply, opting to instead fiddle idly with his straw.

"Kuroko, I think he  _recognises_  you!" Her voice was rising, a note of hysteria evident in her awed tone.

With a quiet sigh, Kuroko stole another glance over his shoulder only to indeed meet the model's warm eyes. He broke eye contact immediately, a slight frown on his face. "That is doubtful. Most people don't remember me."

"And is that Midorima Shintarō next to him?!" she squealed, her voice almost breaking as she did so. "The sharp-dressing glasses model of Shūtoku with an infamously highbrow attitude?"

Kagami snorted disparagingly. "Big deal."

Riko turned to wag a stern finger in his face. "They're a far bigger deal than  _you_ , and until you surpass them, you have no room to turn your nose up at them!"

"What the hell are you trying to say - ?"

"Let's not," Kuroko interrupted, unusually forceful, "make a fuss. They're probably here to relax - as are we."

At Kuroko's unexpected outburst, the group simmered down, clinking drinks as if they hadn't glimpsed the supernovas sitting behind them.

* * *

 

"Midorimacchi," Kise whined as Kuroko turned to talk to his red-headed companion. "Why isn't he saying anything? Didn't he recognise me?"

"I'm sure that he did," Midorima replied, not sparing Kise a glance, "and that is precisely the reason he is ignoring you."

"That's harsh!" Kise lamented, his voice breaking dramatically, before he took on a more serious tone. "He really isn't interested in me at all."

"Are you that incapable of seeing that your insufferable personality is extremely stifling to any person with even an average amount of intelligence?" Midorima asked, taking a small sip from his virgin float. "Because I certainly can attest."

"You're supposed to be  _comforting_  me today, Midorimacchi!"

"Forgive me for not feeling up to comforting an overgrown brat. The same brat that happens to be the whiny perpetrator that made me leave a shoot early in an attempt to goad me to drink irresponsibly with him."

Kise buried his face in his hands, his ears a pale pink. "You were only hand modelling, anyway! God. You're always so depressingly reasonable," he complained, his voice muffled through his slender fingers.

"Then why didn't you bother Aomine? You two are better suited to such pointless debauchery."

"He's always more busy than you. And he's an awful listener. And he's - " the model hiccuped, "an asshole."

"I'm honoured," Midorima said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "May I go now?"

"No."

With a deep sigh, Midorima pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you're truly _that_ wounded at the prospect of he and you not exchanging words, simply go and speak to him yourself." He shook his head as he took in the pallid, slender man, his skinny arms and slightly sloped shoulders. He certainly wasn't Kise's _usual_ , but Midorima still couldn't find it in himself to bother about the other model's tastes in 'conquests.'

Kise peeked at him from in between his finger gaps. "You think I should?"

"I frankly don't care either way, so long as I can leave - "

"Don't be silly!" Kise said, slamming his hands down on the table. "I'll introduce you to him!"

"Introduce - " was all the suited man managed to sputter out before Kise was yanking him along like a rag doll. "Kise, don't be preposterous! I have far more productive things to be doing than being introduced to your so-called acquaintances - "

Kise paid no mind to Midorima's evident agitation as he secured the vacant stool to the right of Kuroko, a strangely excited flutter worming its way from his abdomen to his throat. He didn't understand why he felt so intrigued, so eager at the thought of speaking to the photographer again, but he wasn't one to question his fickle feelings.

"Hi!"

Kuroko didn't think anything of the hearty greeting, didn't even pause to think of the possibility of it being  _aimed_  at him, until a smooth finger lightly tapped at his right shoulder "You're Kuroko, right?"

He looked up to see Kise sitting to the left of him, his gaze oddly demure. "Do - do you remember me?" the model asked, his voice a little hesitant.

"...Yes," Kuroko replied after a pregnant pause, his brows arched with disbelief. "You recognised me?"

"Of course!" Kise answered far too quickly. He seemed to realise this, and waited a moment before adding in a more subdued tone, "how would I forget our meeting so soon?"

"Most people would have."

"Huh?" Kise blinked, thrown off, but shrugged off the wayward comment. "Well, I'm glad - I mean, it's good to see you again!"

"Hey," Kagami said, glaring daggers at the blond. He had shifted closer to the photographer on instinct, his body language reeking of hostility as he gave Kise a one-over. "We were in the middle of - "

"I saw your photos of me," Kise continued, talking over an increasingly indignant Kagami. "A lot of magazines picked them up, you know. They were breathtaking." He leaned his cheek into his palm, his lashes lowered in an intense smolder. "I'll certainly keep an eye out for your work."

"Thank you," Kuroko said, inclining his head. "That is a wonderful compliment to hear from the muse."

Kise flushed suddenly, blinking as he cleared his throat. "I - "

"Look," Midorima interrupted, his face pinched up with obvious irritation. Despite the intrigue of Kise's uncharacteristically bashful behaviour, he was weary of being strung along by his whims for today. "As much as this little reunion _warms_ my heart - " he glanced at his cellphone screen fraught with seemingly hundreds of messages and reminders " - I have  _professional_  obligations to fulfill. If you would excuse me." Deaf to Kise's protests and blind to Riko's shameless gawking, he stood up and made to leave.

"Mr. Midorima." Kuroko's voice was quiet, but the dapper model turned on his polished heel to face him all the same. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Midorima watched Kuroko in a distinctly calculating way, titling his head to the left, then the right. "I hope to someday say the same."

"Uh?" Kagami threw up his hands, furrowing his brow as the model walked away in an evident hurry. "The hell?"

"Um, please excuse Midorimacchi," Kise said apologetically, his eyes on Kuroko. "He's a bit socially impaired."

"What is he, an old man?" Kagami asked tactlessly, and was rewarded with a harsh blow between his ribs from Kuroko's bony elbow. "Ow!"

"Midorimacchi is a very intelligent person." He turned to give the photographer a winning grin. "I think you'll like him, Kurokocchi."

"What's with that 'chi' thing?" Kagami asked, and Kise blinked as if he had just noticed him.

"'Chi?' What's 'chi'?" the blond replied, confused.

"I'm asking you, you damn bimbo!"

"Mr. Kise!" Riko cut into the conversation without missing a beat, half of her body practically in Kagami's lap as she leaned towards Kise. "I see you're interested in my photographer's work."

"Yes!" His reply was instantaneous, his voice genuinely warm. "He's amazing."

"I'm glad he left a good impression," Riko said, her eyes calculating despite her business smile. "He was also pleased at being able to take photos of you."

"Really?" Kise stole a glance at Kuroko, who was taking a dainty sip of his beverage. "Well, in that case, he's free to come to Kaijou shoots whenever he wants! My treat."

Riko almost choked on her drink, thumping her chest with a fist, before she managed to sputter out, "he is?"

Kise looked at her quizzically. "Of course."

"Mr. Kise," Kuroko said suddenly, and Kise pivoted to face him so fast that it was a miracle he didn't experience some sort of whiplash. "Do you know where Mr. Midorima rushed off to?"

"Oh," the blond said, embarrassed. "That's my bad. I dragged him away from work to humour me for a little bit."

"So you're off work yourself?"

"Mmm. Technically." Kise downed the rest of his gin. "It's been a busy week. Didn't feel like idly chitchatting with the press today."

"What a tragedy," Kagami grumbled, half under his breath, and Kise finally gave him a good, hard look.

"Ah, yes. Who are you?" Kise's face was a mask of innocence, his voice honeyed. 

"Kagami Taiga." It was less words and more a patterned growl. "Do you have any damn manners at all? We were in the middle of a conversation." Riko looked at Kagami with wide eyes, indignant, but her employee was in no mood to pay attention to her. He was zeroed in on the Miracle Model, who wore a self-satisfied, indulgent smirk. As if he was far above even acknowledging Kagami, never mind carrying on a conversation with him, and was merely humouring him.

"Really? My apologies. I didn't really notice you."

"That sounds like a load of bullshit," he bit back, and Riko's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Kise only continued to smile disarmingly.

"Excuse me," Kise said, and his smile was all scorn. "Models tend to be used to blocking out interference."

The party went deathly quiet, with even gentle Kiyoshi looking mildly taken aback at Kise's overt disdain. Kagami was red with fury, his jaw clenching and unclenching, much like his fists. But before he could speak, or even so much as twitch in Kise's direction, he stilled as a hand came to rest on his bouncing thigh.

"Kagami is my work partner."

Kise blinked, shifting his mocking eyes from Kagami's angry expression to Kuroko's intense gaze. "What was that?"

"Kagami is my work partner," Kuroko repeated, a hard edge to his voice as he leaned almost imperceptibly in Kise's direction, "and I value his opinion." His eyes, usually placid and passive, were alight with a passion that twisted Kise's gut -  in a way he found not entirely unpleasant.

It was a challenge. That much was obvious, but Kise hardly registered it. Kuroko stared at him endlessly, and Kise felt himself swallow as he slowly took in the curvature of Kuroko's frown, his pale hands, clenched around his drink, and those torrid eyes that he found himself wanting to drown in the longer he returned that gaze.

 _I'm sorry_ , Kise thought. Not for the redhead's sake, or for their manager, but because those words had made Kuroko look at him with that fierce, cold expression.

"Of course," Kise said instead. The flames of tension died almost instantaneously, and Kuroko sat up ruler straight again as he took another measured sip of his water. Riko, having been dumbstruck, suddenly found her voice again.

"So! Do you have any photo shoots coming up soon?" Her voice was pitched a tad higher, a note of hysteria evident as she tried to jump start the halted conversation in a different direction. Kagami's expression was still irate, but his chest felt warm as he gruffly flagged down Kippei for another drink.

"Ah, my next shoot?" He fluttered his fingers on the table, ruminating, before his face lit up. "I just remembered." Kise had the gall to look a tad contrite as he pouted his lips.

"I have a meet and greet photo shoot with Midorimacchi scheduled next week. It's a bit more formal of an event, but." He swallowed. "My agent was still looking for a official photographer for me during the event, but I think you're better than anyone she's suggested. I would be honored if you would help."

Kuroko blinked, evidently surprised. "Thank you," he replied, his voice soft, and when Kise felt the heat in his cheeks he blamed it on the gin.

"What the fuck?" Kagami articulated, turning away from his new drink to look at Kise, suspicion marring his brow. "Shouldn't you already have - "

"Kuroko would be honored," Riko cut in, her grip on Kagami's neck clamping down like a vice, "to represent Seiren Snaps."

Kagami groaned, in agony, but not one person paid him mind. Both Kise and Riko were intensely focused on Kuroko, whose expression that had not twitched once through the exchange, as he quietly polished off the last of his water. After a pause, he steepled his fingers, his mouth barely quirking as he met Kise's expectant - _nervous?_ \- gaze.

"It would be a pleasure."

* * *

 

 

Kise was frowning, carding a hand through his hair absently. The Seiren crew had cleared out not long after they had accepted his instinctive offer, with Kuroko spearheading their exit while their manager practically towing the glowering amateur model way with an iron grip.

The encounter had left him with an unfamiliar, bottomless feeling in his stomach, one that he had not shaken off even after gulping down far too many shots.Through the pleasant, almost overwhelming buzz of the alcohol, he noticed a tall, supple woman - a fellow model, from a separate company - making unabashed eyes at him from her seat at the bar, but he couldn't find it within himself to slink over to her and spin his typical web of seductive smiles and teasing touches.

Instead, he found himself watching his eyes in the empty glass, watching them morph into those cool eyes that always cut him to the quick. Reflecting that subtle smile on barely pink lips, that polite, endearing assent to Kise's sudden job offer.

 _Not good_ , he found himself acknowledging, but he had never been one for common sense. 

"Can I get you something else, sir?" the bartender asked, breaking him out of his thoughts, and Kise decided he didn't much care for that overly understanding expression. The music, soft and almost a seamless blend into the background, pulsated through Kise's skull, and he flicked his wrist dismissively. 

"An Oil Spill. On the rocks." A pause, before he added decisively, "double."

As he closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples tiredly, his eyes flicked towards the woman at the bar. Her dress was distractingly low cut, tight in all the right places, and her hair was dark and curly as it fell just past her bare shoulders. A perfect piece of candy to indulge himself in - and yet, he was still void of his regular, bestial intrigue. As they made eye contact, she quirked her plush lips in a coquettish smile, and he found himself reciprocating with a reluctant dimple. The bartender slid his requested drink towards him, his eyes lingering on his face too long, too knowingly, and Kise decided suddenly that such a distraction would be prudent.

Anything to erase the afterimage of those fathomless eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kise's drink, the Oil Spill, is sort of self-demonstrating. Despite its name and slick appearance, it's a vaguely sweet cocktail. Much like Kise, I'd wager.
> 
> Thank you for waiting! I really want to update this every other week from here on out, and I have a pretty solid outline for the rest of this story. I appreciate every kudo and kind comment - it's extremely motivating, and I love to hear how readers are feeling! Next chapter should have us chugging right along into the thick of things.
> 
> Also! Feel free to talk to me and ask any questions at ummmbrage.tumblr.com, my official tumblr for my writing and fandom angst.


	4. noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this isn't how I imagined this chapter would turn out, although I do think it still fulfills its purpose.

shot 03

 

* * *

 

Kuroko didn't quite care for suits. He preferred to have his camera be the only strain around his neck, and to be clad in little else other than loose shirts and lowrise jeans, but today was not a day for comfort.  

Tugging lightly at his white collar in a vain attempt to loosen his iron clad tie, he glanced warily at the clock. If they started running late, Riko would undoubtedly speed - and Kuroko damn well _knew_ speeding in the Seirin Snaps rustbucket of a van was paramount to suicide. Kagami was undoubtedly not helping their case; he had strolled into the studio about half an hour prior, with his perpetual bedhead, a slackened tie and scuffed black dress shoes. 

Kuroko was sure Riko's vocal chords had suffered irreparable damage in the five minutes that had ensued after the amateur model's arrival, and both he and Mr. Hyuuga has slunk back into the shadows to observe Kagami's systematic verbal demise. She had then busied herself with fixing up his appearance, which involved a generous splash of hair gel, a miniature iron, a healthy splash of shoe polish and a pearl-string's worth of muttered curses.   

"Damn it, Riko," Kagami snarled as she languidly adjusted his tie for the fourth time, "why and how did you rope me into this bullshit?"

"When I see an opportunity, I take it," she replied simply, quirking her brow. "And getting into a private Kaijou photoshoot is practically throwing us dogs a filet migon!" She gave a final tug on Kagami's lapels before standing back, looking pleased. "And Kuroko's how, obviously. I still can hardly believe Kise Ryouta wants _you_ as his personal photographer tonight!"

The photographer looked a little embarrassed, fiddling with his camera, but said nothing. 

"Maybe if you were a little more charismatic," Riko snipped, glaring balefully at Kagami's scowling face, "you'd also be attracting more opportunities."

" _You're_ lecturing me on my lack of charisma?" Kagami snapped his gum. "You might want to try looking into a mirror - preferably sometime in this life."

Riko gave a half-strangled cry of indignation before striding over to the model, nose to chest. She jammed her finger into a solid pectoral, a vein jumping in her neck. "Listen here, you hotheaded _ass_ \- "

"Miss Riko," Kuroko quickly cut in, ever the mediator, "we ought to get going soon."

Riko blinked, almost instantaneously stepping back out of Kagami's personal space with a clack of her heels. "Yes. Right! We've got careers to launch!" She turned to Mr. Hyuuga, who had been quietly filing paperwork under the storm clouds of Riko's intermittent  fits of rage. "Wish us luck!"

He gave a curt nod, still nose deep in check balancing, but a genuine smile had broken across his face. "Of course, boss."

"To the van!" Riko exclaimed, and Kuroko and Kagami shared equally dismal glances. "We'll be across this city in record speed!"

* * *

"I don't understand how the hell she ain't in jail, Kuroko," Kagami wheezed, his heart a thudding jackhammer in his chest. Both he and Kuroko had eyes as wide as dinner plates, their fingers digging for purchase against the van's dingy leather seats. "No sane person drives that fucking high over the municipal speed limit."

Kuroko could only nod meekly, his hands still trembling from hanging onto his seat for dear life. Oblivious to her employees' abject terror, Riko turned around in the driver's seat to flash them an audacious grin. "Told you! This old girl's quick as a whip!"

"This van'll probably last longer than we'll live at this rate," Kagami grumbled under his breath, moving to unbuckle his seatbelt. Riko, evidently not hearing him, followed suit, as did Kuroko. They had parked in front of an elegant studio, already surrounded by luxurious parked cars and company vans alike. 

"Damn. This place sure puts the old Seiren Snaps shack to shame," Kagami said with a whistle, and earned a pointed elbow in his side. "Ow!"

"Could you at least pretend to take pride in where you work?" Riko demanded, but there was a raw edge to her tone that had Kagami snapping his mouth shut on a fast retort. "Look. If we don't sell ourselves, no one will." She patted her employees backs, a steely glint in her eye. "Keep your heads held high tonight, boys."

Kuroko and Kagami nodded, their eyes and feet following helplessly after Riko's resolute back as she strode to the front door. There was a litany of imposing security guards, and as they approached, one of them gruffly inquired identification. 

"Riko Aida, Seiren Snaps." She flashed her ID. "These are my two employees - Kuroko Testsuya and Kagami Taiga." Riko placed a hand on her hip, her red mermaid dress accentuating her typically hidden curves. "Mr. Kise invited us as guests, and hired my photographer for tonight."

"Hn," was the head guard's only response, eying Riko's exposed cleavage with something akin to vague interest, but after a minute of thumbing through the guest list he gave a nod of approval.

"Ah, even their security is over the top," Riko gushed as they hurried inside. "What a cushy life!"

"What a life," Kagami parroted mockingly. "These supermodels are a just bunch of smoke blowing, air-headed dicks," he murmured, leaning down a little to talk into Kuroko's ear. The photographer gave a little shrug.

"That _may_ be so," Kuroko acquiesced carefully, "but I find it wise to not make skin-deep judgments." He gave his taller friend a pointed glance. "Some of the best people come in the roughest packages."

Kagami coloured. "These ain't banged up packages, Kuroko - these are vipers layered in shiny gold wrap. Try and remember that."

Riko chose that moment to wheel around and stop in her tracks, her hands clasped together as if she was a tender maiden. A modest pearl ring adorned her right index finger, and it glimmered as her eyes gleamed. 

"Well! I'm off to go network, boys." Riko was all grins as she smoothed out her dress. "Kuroko, I expect your best work yet while you trail Kise tonight. And Kagami..." she trailed off in a sigh. "Try not to antagonize anyone too important, would you? I would like to actually make some solid connections tonight."

Kagami snorted. "As long as they don't antagonize me," he said stubbornly, and his manager rubbed her temples. 

"Let me rephrase this for you - don't make a mess that's too big for me clean up." Her gaze bore down on him, eyes full of sinister promise. "Do I make myself clear?"

Kagami gulped noisily as he jerked his head up and down, looking begrudgingly contrite. Seemingly satisfied, Riko gave her employed duo a wink and a wiggle of her fingers before blending into the milling crowd.

"God. There's a lot of people here," Kagami complained instantly, and Kuroko hummed his affirmation. "These bastards really  _must_  have fans."

"What bastards?"

The pair whirled around to see a rather pretty man behind them, his weight shifted onto his right leg. His eyes were dark and sharp, as if he could pinpoint and pierce through the slightest of deceptions with nary a thought. His suit was a classic black and white and his shoes were blindingly bright - polished to perfection. The man's hands rested easily on his hips, a quizzical brow raised. 

  
At the pair's lack of response, a modicum of ire seemed to rise within the mystery man. "Who invited you?" His gaze intensified into a semi-accusatory glower. "Couldn't be Shin."

"Shin?" Kuroko echoed, clearly bewildered, but the man only rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Shin," he repeated. "Shin darling? Shinny?" At Kuroko's increasingly lost expression, he gave a little noise of exasperation. "Shintaro," he snapped. "Midorima, for god's sake. Clearly this," he gestured disparagingly in Kuroko's direction, "couldn't be his doing."

Kuroko was dumbstruck.

"I guess the golden motor mouth must have invited you." He raised his skeptical brow ever-higher. "What, are you his latest toy?"

Kagami's brows furrowed, and the tension gathering in his shoulders finally burst out in a snap. "Who the _fuck_ are you, and who the _hell_ do you think you're talking to like that?"

The mystery man grinned hawkishly. "The name's Takao Kazunari. Shin's best man, closest confident." He wiggled his brows suggestively before laughing a little. "I'm also a model, but that was probably pretty obvious."

Kagami only glowered at him, his silence pointed, and Takao frowned. "This is the part where you typically introduce yourself back," the Shūtoku model eventually drawled, evidently expectant.

"Typically," Kagami agreed, "but typically, people aren't such gaping assholes."

Takao blinked, affronted, and Kagami tugged Kuroko away by his skinny wrist. "Where the hell is your host?" The redhead grumbled. "I'm going to punch someone before the night is over, so it might as well be him."

Kuroko blinked owlishly before coughing discreetly into his fist. "Sir Kagami," he quipped, "my knight in shining armour."

"Shut the fuck up," Kagami groused half-heartedly, his ears a burning red. "That Takao was just a dumbass, s'all."

"Mmhm."

Kagami dropped his hand after a minute, still a bit flustered. "I'll get some drinks. Wait here." Before the photographer could protest, the amateur model had melded into the thick of the crowd. With a quiet sigh, Kuroko busied himself with taking in the venue. The rays of dying sunlight pouring in from the tiny windows, streaking the polished wooden floors in an orange glow. The ceiling was high, with immaculately detailed chandeliers that glowed incandescent in the rays of the waning daylight. In the corner was a large shoot, set up with green screens and props, and Kuroko could make out a glimpse of green hair in the center of the vortex of photographers that had gathered near the shoot site.

"You're here!"

Kuroko turned to see Kise striding towards him, his hands clasped together in restrained delight. His hair was let down, and he brushed his golden bangs out of his eyes as he swiftly approached the photographer.

"Ah. Good evening, Mr. Kise," Kuroko acquiesced, bowing politely. "Good to see you. Perhaps, too early?" He added, noting Kise's casual attire, "or did I overdress?"

Kise coloured abruptly, his eyes darting from Kuroko's pale neck to his expectant face. "No! No! Of course not..." he trailed off as his gaze roved over Kuroko's suit jacket. "It looks good. You do, I mean." He cleared his throat as he willed himself to calm down, but he could hardly get over how perfectly smooth the column of Kuroko's milky white throat looked. The allure was only enhanced by the photographer's dark ensemble, and it took all of Kise's willpower to not outright ogle him.

"Thank you. I am eager to begin photographing you." His tone was deceptively even, but there was the slightest quirk at the corner of those pink lips and Kise was _so_ doomed.

Utterly doomed.

" _You_ look like a model," he added, almost despairingly, under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I should go get ready!" Kise almost shouted, and Kuroko flinched a little. "I'll let Midorimacchi know you're here! The hors d'oeuvres are good!"

"Um," Kise was already striding away with gusto, "okay."

Left to his own devices once again, Kuroko began to drift around the immaculate venue once more. His eyes alighted on the aforementioned appetizers, arranged in silver platings that stacked on top of each other. Without hesitation, he meandered to the elegant food platters, his eyes scannning the delicacies.

It was certainly a far cry from his strange, half spoiled fridge of 'food' in his dingy apartment.

His gaze stopped on an arrangement of the fanciest cupcakes he had ever seen, the frosting laden with frightening detail into an elegant "Y." Immediately, the photographer fumbled with his camera, eager to capture such craftsmanship. His shutter clicked once, twice, and he observed his photo with satisfaction before reaching for one to claim for his stomach. 

"Hmm. A sweet tooth."

Kuroko turned to see the Shūtoku hand model in all his glory, aptly suited for the occasion. His vibrant green tie was a welcome break from his otherwise classic suit piece. 

"Mr. Midorima," Kuroko greeted catiously. The spectacled man looked him over with an analytical eye, a perfectly shaped brow arched in incredulity. 

"Mr. Kuroko. It's...unexpected to see you again."

"I hope I am not an unpleasant surprise," Kuroko replied after a moment's pause. The model's gaze felt sharp on the photographer's face before he neatly pushed his glasses further up his nose. His elegant hands were clad in lacy white gloves, embroidered with dark trim. Midorima oozed natural elegance.

"Not quite. Kise did make brief mention of hiring you for this evening, but I admit I was skeptical." Midorima raised his champagne glass to his lips, taking a measured sip. "Kise has a history of being... _mildly_ capricious."  

"I see," Kuroko said, as if taking note. 

"You're enjoying the cupcakes." It was almost an accusation in Midorima's curt, business-like tone.

"Very much so," the photographer replied, swiping away a speck of errant frosting from his bottom lip. "I've never had a vanilla cupcake quite so delicious."

"Of course you wouldn't have," Midorima agreed unflinchingly, "these cupcakes are the epitome of gourmet. Yōsen Bakery only regularly caters for the very special few."

"My compliments to the chef. These are certainly the moistest cupcakes I've ever had."

"Hmm." Midorima smoothed down the lapels of his suit jacket almost reflexively. "I'll make sure to pass along your...praise."  

He gestured to Kuroko's own suit with a gloved hand. "You clean up quite nicely. I commend you." 

"Thank you for such a high compliment, Mr. Midorima."

Midorima tilted his head, as if miffed. "You really are quite formal. Moreso than I'd anticipated."

"Is that so?" Kuroko asked lightly.

The Shūtoku model gave a snort that almost could have passed as a laugh. "Your date this evening has a certain... _reputation_ that proceeds him."

"My date?" Kuroko repeated absently, and Midorima gave a dismissive tut. 

"No matter. As long as he does his job, his private life is of little interest to me." He flexed his fingers generously, taking little heed of Kuroko's bemused expression. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other guests to greet. Take care."

"Thank - " Kuroko began, but the words died on his lips as Midorima strode away. " - you." He watched the hand model dissolve into the crowd before returning his full attention to the delicate treat in his hands. "The select few..." he repeated wistfully, before taking another bite. "A shame."

"Kurokocchi! There you are!" 

His charge was striding towards him with practiced grace. He had combed his hair back into a coiffed hairstyle that left no inch of his handsome face obsured. There was a hint of eyeliner smudged daringly along his upper lid that intensified his golden gaze, a dash of rogue patted on full lips. His suit looked perfectly tailored to every inch of his lithe body, the golden emblazonings only accentuating his sun-like intensity.

"Mr. Kise," Kuroko greeted simply, and the model instantly began to fret.

"I'm so sorry for just leaving you in this crowd," he welched, "but wardrobe was getting frenzied and god, I'm being such a terrible host - "

"Would you care for a cupcake?"

Kise paused in his frenetic apology, his brow wrinkling. "What?"

"They're really delectable," Kuroko continued, plucking another cupcake away from the delicate, mountainous arrangement. He held one up to Kise, his eyes expectant. "The flavor is like a edible milkshake."

The model could feel his heart clench. There was something unbearably charming about the photographer in that moment - his eyes, slowly stoked blue fires in the light of the low hanging chandeliers, the curvature of those outstretched, pale fingers, the unconscious quirk to those lips that he found himself fantasizing about - kissing them with bruising force until they were red and swollen -

Kise recoiled, abruptly aborting his runaway train of thought.

 _Shit_.

"Mr. Kise?"

The model's eyes snapped back to Kuroko, who hadn't grown any less attractive in the brief pause of time - much to Kise's dismay. "Oh! I shouldn't, really," he began, holding his hands palms forward in weak abjection, but the photographer seemed dogged. With a sigh, he relented, and Kuroko relinquished the cupcake over to him. It smelled almost unbearably sweet - _classic Murasakibara_ \- but even Kise couldn't deny its base appeal.

Tentatively, he took a bite, his tongue grazing his lower lip for errant frosting, and to his surprise he heard the telltale sound of a camera shutter.

"Hey - " the model groused. " You're supposed to be getting me at my best tonight."

"I am." Kuroko's reply was immediate. "Your fans surely will appreciate your natural allure, even in the mundane."

Kise tried not to be too pleased at the photographer's praise. "You sure know how to flatter a guy," he purred, an unavoidable lilt of suggestiveness in his tone.

"It's not flattery if it's the truth."

The model could feel himself drowning, drowing in those bafflingly honest eyes. "I guess so," he murmured, his flirtiness momentarily dropped, his gaze unwavering. In that moment, Kise couldn't hear the frenzied cries of his impatient crew, or see the barreling bulk of Kagami bulldozing towards them, or even Midorima's quietly judging gaze from across the room, Takao wrapping his hands around his arm with a smirk.

All he could feel was that luminescent blue. 

"K-Kuroko."

The man in question blinked, once, twice. "Yes, Mr. Kise?" 

"Could I have your number?"

* * *

 

"That was a shitshow," Kagami grumbled, leaning back into the tattered passenger seat of the van. "All these bastards kept asking me what agency I worked for, and how much I was paid. What do I look like, a hooker? I'm not for sale."

"You handsome bastard!" Riko breathed in awe. Her cheeks were more than a bit flushed as she gripped the wheel, the streetlights illuminating her eyes. "You skulked around with two drinks in your hand, and yet you still drummed up intrigue for Seirin!"

"It's not my fucking fault I couldn't find Kuroko! There was a lot of damn people, and he's not exactly whatcha call 'noticeable!'"

The photographer was silent in the backseat, opting to observe the spoils of his work. He has followed Kise all night as he flirted and gabbed with his guests, and had done his best to snap photos during his shoot despite the suffocating crowd of bigger, flashier camera models and Midorima's own camera crew. Kise had let him go after the crowd began to thin post-shoot, his smile still brilliant and yet not quite touching his eyes. As he thumbed through the photos, he found himself feeling that knaw of dissatisfaction that had followed him since giving Kise that cupcake.

"I take it that your night with Kise went well, Kuroko?" Riko grinned from ear to ear. According to his manager, Kise has had nothing but good things to say about you!"

Kagami made a disapproving sound deep in his throat. "I'm sure."

Riko frowned, glancing away from the road to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He looks at Kuroko like - like a hungry wolf eyin' a wounded deer. You tell me." Kagami glanced back at the smaller man, still lost in thought. "I don't like him."

"Kuroko?" Riko said after a moment's silence. "What do you think of Kise?"

The photographer brought a contemplative hand to his chin, his eyes still fixed on the camera in his hands. He could still see Kise, too close, his eyes brighter than the sun dying in the studios tiny windows. Remembered, remembers, how he wished he could've captured that raw earnestness that momentarily blinded him. With an exhale, he met Riko's prying eyes in the rearview mirror. 

"A star."

* * *

 Kise tapped his thigh impatiently as his foot jumped up and down, the incessant ringing of the line tapdancing on his last nerve. He was stiffly perched in a loveseat worn from good use, although his body wasn't relaxed in the slightest. "For god's sake, why won't he pick up his damn - "

"Jesus," came a gruff bass, his tone acerbic. "Kise?"

"Of course it's me, you idiot," the model seethed. "Were you _asleep_? It's barely even ten o' clock!"

"What are you, my girlfriend? Hop off my dick." There was a loud yawn from the other end of the line, followed by a gratuitous smack of lips. "What do you want from little ol' me this time?"

Kise bristled. "What makes you think I need something from you?"

A sudden, harsh bark of laughter had the blond almost jumping out of his skin. "Kise, don't insult my intelligence. You only call me whenever you're out of other drinking buddies, or when you feel like impressing your lastest piece of arm candy. So which is it this time?"

Kise could feel his cheeks burning. "Neither."

There was a short, apprehensive pause before the voice on the other end spoke again. "Is this a booty call?"

"Wha - no, goddamn it!" Kise sputtered, gritting his teeth as the voice on the other end laughed raucously. "That was - gah, forget it. I'm calling in for a favour, jackass."

"Oh?" The model could almost see the other man smirking indulgently, his voice a dark, velvety purr. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, Goldilocks."

The model exhaled noisily. "Aomine, I need tickets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new asshole has entered the ring.
> 
> I'm back! Thank you all for waiting so patiently for the next update. I couldn't get the feel of this chapter quite right, and even now I still feel dissatisfied. However, I'll try to make peace with that feeling. I need to write more to perfect my craft, and I really want to continue this strange, irregular story.
> 
> Please, feel free to tell me your thoughts here or at my Tumblr @ummmbrage! I always appreciate your feedback and criticism.


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